


I could get through those days with you on my mind

by theprincessed



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Louis’ confused, argumentative and really, really stubborn…but that doesn’t seem to matter to one Nick Grimshaw</i> - ie. this is a getting together fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I could get through those days with you on my mind

As soon as Louis hangs up, Harry flashes him a tired but still pleased grin. “Great, isn’t he?”

It’s not like Louis never spoken to Nick before, in a professional capacity or something more friendly, but he never really gives Harry an opinion. Contrary to popular belief, he just...stays out of it, away from their friendship because that’s it – it’s _their_ friendship and it’s none of his business unless Harry is unhappy, which he’s not. Having come off from having a chat live on the radio, Louis feels like it’s a time when he can give a little bit more.

“He’s alright, I s’pose,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

Harry fist-pumps the air like Louis’ told him that he’s paying for a class upgrade on their next flight or they will pop into that dimly lit record shop the next time they walk past with no grumbling or teasing from him.

What’s good enough for Harry is good enough for him.

*

He’s in the car, travelling back from a quick run to Milkshake City, when his phone rings. Hands free, Louis turns down the radio and answers the call.

“Hello, Louis Tomlinson,”

For a second, it doesn’t register in his mind who is calling even though very few people ridiculously address him by both names. He suspects if Nick knew his middle name he’d used that too. It’s the kind of thing he, Louis, does to everyone else but shakes the feeling quickly.

“Nicholas.” he says, eyes flickering down to the dials on his dashboard. 

He debates whether to put his foot down so he’s home sooner and has an excuse to run, but thinks too long on it (for a change) for it to really still be an option. He’s not too far anyway.

“Good talk this morning,”

“Hmm,” he hedges, noncommittal, “it was. Calling back to rib me about my childhood confessions? I’m surprised you didn’t on air.”

“Me?” Nick asks flippantly and Louis frowns, a retort on the tip of his tongue that should fall but it dies from curiosity when he hears Nick breathing, a pause. “I’d never.” he adds, voice quieter. “Just like I didn’t want Fincham scaring the shit out of you like he did Niall.”

“I can take care of myself, thanks.”

Carefully parking his car, Louis pulls off his seatbelt and grabs his things. He shoulders his way into his house, milkshakes and phone balanced precariously, as Harry comes into the hallway a second later and, although Louis wasn’t expecting him yet, it’s welcome. 

“I’m sure you can,” Nick laughs and Louis looks up to see the instant surprise on Harry’s face, “In fact, Harry doesn’t stop telling me that you can. You’re so independent in that new house of yours; no longer having a husband to clean up after you...but you still can’t cook fuck all.”

Louis shoves the drinks at Harry despite himself marching into the kitchen and can hear that the TV is on and the easy chat of nearby voices, meaning the other lads are here too. They haven’t changed; they hang out on their sparse days off and today calls for football and junk food. Harry, being nosy, follows him and hops onto a stool as Louis opens his cupboards, trying to find the peanuts he swears he bought on his last rushed supermarket shop.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take the piss?” he sighs, shrugging his shoulders at Harry for both the missing peanuts and why he’s having a conversation with _Nick_. “I don’t hate you, but I get enough stick off the boys so if you don’t mind – ”

“Hey!” he exclaims, chuckling again, “I said I wouldn’t mention Power Rangers or Busted. Everything else is fair game.”

“As usual,” Louis grumbles under his breath then dares to say louder, “Power Rangers are cool.” 

There’s another pause and Louis looks at his phone on the countertop. He turns to Harry who grins full beam and quickly motions for Louis to give him the phone ( _as if_ ) when there’s a rush of noise on the other end of the line. It sounds like traffic and people and Louis loses his patience.

“Listen, I’ve got to go,” he says quickly, “Actually you’re breaking up – sorry – talking – you – good – ”

He hangs up. Harry waits exactly three seconds before, “Well, that was rude.”

Louis tries for a smile, always adept at cajoling Harry out of disapproval. “He was freaking me out and the football starts soon anyway,”

Harry actually nods and Louis would feel a little guilty if he didn’t know that they all play a game with each other, wrapped around every finger. “Hmm, it was a bit strange for him to call you. Top left cupboard.”

Louis does a double take at the swift additional topic but opens the one above anyway and lo and behold there’s the missing peanuts. Harry seems to take that as victory enough to _keep_ talking about Nick as Louis snatches up the packet and his phone and starts for the living room.

“Maybe he enjoyed your chat on air this morning that he wanted to ring you again,”

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t let Fincham ring me,” he sighs, ignoring the giddiness in Harry’s voice at his worlds colliding, however briefly. “If he had, Nick probably wouldn’t have got it from him. Will I have to _actually_ ignore him now?”

“No,” Harry warns as he flops down on Louis’ sofa between Niall and Liam, “Don’t do that. Maybe he, er, likes hearing you talk.”

“Likes the sound of his own voice, more like,” Louis mumbles and fills his mouth with peanuts in a half arsed attempt to disguise it.

“Like someone else I know!” Harry crows triumphantly.

Just for that, he gets peanuts in his mess of curls and down his t-shirt. One even gets stuck in his bellybutton. Louis’ not sorry.

*

It’s dark and very, very warm and only bright when the strobe lights flash on people’s faces, cutting strange shapes and making them look almost something other than human. In other words, it’s perfect. It’s nearing midnight and Louis’ on an unplanned night out, at least that’s what the boys will think if they ever hear about this. To Louis, he knew he needed something like this after the stress of the past couple of days. He’s thankful for his new position in life, but hates the feeling of being caged and pigeonholed and like he’s not allowed to be his own person. You could say this is his secret rebellion. Nobody stops him going out, nobody stops any of them going out, but....this might not be quite what the bigwigs had in mind.

He’s been here an hour and he’s already been hit on by three people, but Louis’ not going to let himself be tethered to one person. He’s careful with whose attention he reciprocates too. This is a part of the city that’s really not usually his thing as far as the clubbers are concerned, but he comes because it’s less chance of being recognised and he needs that for this to work. He’s not a wallflower though. Never has been and likely never will be, even in his quiet moments. To be found desirable he has to put himself on the line a little, just like anybody else.

He’s at the bar, lazily drinking from the last bottle bought for him and keeping a sidelong eye on a guy at the opposite end who’s been staring for the last ten minutes straight. He’s big in the burly sense and looks slightly lonely and out of his depth. He’s not Louis’ type at all, but he reasons inwardly that there’s no harm in the guy looking. Louis’ dark jeans are stretched tight around his thighs and arse, his top sleeveless and blue, the colour bouncing off his eyes, and his hair crazily bedhead, like he’s just returned from someone continually petting and tugging their fingers through it. Sometimes that’s true. He’s not the most confident person in the world, but right then he knows he looks good because he _feels_ good.

It’s something of a hazard to stand by the bar when it’s this full of people, but it’s still a prime position to make flirty eyes at men ordering drinks for friends or to turn around and scan the invisible dancefloor, so Louis stays where he is and sips his beer, conscious not to get shitfaced and not know what he’s doing.

He’s not sure what he regrets more when he feels a body press right up against him in the crush of a drinks crowd and half-turns to tell the idiot behind to back off and give him a bit of space. His resolve dies as he looks up and sees brown eyes and a quiff.

“Oh.”

Nick blinks, apparently just as surprised to see Louis, before a grin overtakes. “Thanks for sounding so pleased to see me,”

Louis shrugs through his heart rate doubling and his self-conscious streak kicking in with a bang. “Didn’t expect to see you, that’s all.”

“Didn’t expect to see _me_?” Nick raises an eyebrow. “I thought this wasn’t your scene,”

“Wasn’t sure it was yours either.”

He means it as a simple retort, but instead he sounds as curious as Nick and he stands awkwardly as his eyes track down Louis’ body too slow for his liking and showing his confusion as he tries to process that a friend of a friend is suddenly at one of his usual haunts. Sometimes he wants uncomplicated fun too and perhaps there really is no better place than a club, where the drinks flow and so does the laughter. And the pretty boys.

Nick’s gaze steadies at his face, but it’s not less calculating, clocking the tiniest smudge of eyeliner to his lashline and Louis presses his lips together, tasting soft strawberry from the swipe of lip balm. Nobody wants to kiss anyone with a horribly flaky mouth.

“Is it yours too?”

A party of inebriated guys and girls swoop past them, nudging Nick closer to Louis in an effort to get to the bar and, with that distraction, Louis nods minutely. He stares at them to block out the proximity of Nick’s gangly limbs yet solid warmth.

“Oh, love,” he feels breath against his cheek, but flinches when Nick reaches to touch his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking pity me!” he hisses, eyes hard and stony-faced. “Its fine, I don’t care. _And_ I’ll prove it.”

It’s reckless not doing his usual careful checks, but right in that moment it is more important to Louis for him to leave Nick with an air of confidence. He daren’t look back in case Nick _knows_ he isn’t or, somehow worse, if he’s still watching him. Louis slides into a knot of bodies on the dancefloor and makes a hasty beeline for the first guy he even vaguely finds attractive. What he couldn’t have predicted was turning around so his back is to the guy’s chest and coming face-to-face with a girl who winks mischievously then slips a hand onto Louis’ hip, sandwiching them together in a pretty, swaying threesome. Deciding this is where he wants to stay and if Nick can’t wrap his head around that then it’s not his problem, Louis glances up towards the bar to see if he’s still there. He is, leaning back on his elbows, but his eyes are unmoving and belie the feigned nonchalance of his posture. He appears to be frozen, watching Louis grab whoever he wants, and it may be a trick of the light, but he thinks he sees Nick swallow thickly, face blankly serious.  


Cocooned in strong, lithe arms, Louis reaches for the back of the guy’s neck and pulls him around enough to let their mouths meet. When he pulls away to keep on dancing with some coordination, it’s to find that Nick is gone.

*

“I think I want to fuck Louis.”

Facing life or choking, Harry sprays beer all down his t-shirt that may look like a charity case, but was actually a rather expensive luxury. His eyebrows knit together and his lips form a pout as he looks forlornly down at the wet stained mess.

Nick coughs unsubtly. “Among other things.”

Harry blinks, his chest still rising rapidly from the shock. “ _My_ Louis?”

His eye seems to twitch when Nick considers a smirk, so he nods his head. “Your Louis.”

“Louis Tomlinson?”

Nick stops the charade with a hard glance and Harry tries not to recoil because wow, apparently he can be just as testy as Louis when his buttons are royally pushed.

“He’s got the best arse in the group,” Nick says instead, but his tone lifts as if searching for approval.

Harry can’t really argue with that. “Well, that is true.” he says agreeably and looks around their outside table, aware again that any pap could be lurking and could’ve seen him nearly spit alcohol in his friend’s face. He can see the stories now and can’t even tell anyone it was Nick’s fault without lying. Unfair.

Before he can think to say anything else, Nick slumps forward on the bar table when Harry doesn’t offer to kick his face (or his nuts) in for him. This might be less of a headache if he did, but he groans pitifully anyway.

“Fuck. Why _him_?” he straightens suddenly, caught in a memory. “Y’know, just last week I caught myself looking at pap shots of what you’d been up to lately and before I knew what I was doing, Fincham, nosy bastard that he is, was at my shoulder asking what I was doing looking at ‘high-definition pictures of Louis Tomlinson’s thighs’. And then,” he adds and he must look as frantic as he feels, hands pulling anxiously at his flip-flopping hair, because Harry doesn’t stop him even though he’s probably already said too much. “ – I couldn’t help myself, I went back and stared at his arse and thought about where I’d want to put my tongue, fuck – ”

“Okay!” Harry breathes and reaches across the table to fist his hands in the lapels of Nick’s jacket to get him to shut up and focus all at the same time. “Please stop.”

“ – Nearly swore on air.” he finishes, in a quiet but determined voice, as if he needs to spill his guts so completely now that he’s started. Mind you, he neglects to mention their (admittedly hot) meeting at a club a few weeks prior. It’s not important...right?

Harry’s eyes widen. “You were doing radio at the time?” he lets Nick go a little more aggressively than he means to, the other man slumping back into his seat. “Jesus, Nick.”

“I know,” he whines, hand over his mouth to disguise it somewhat, “this is so bad. So...can I fuck his perfect twink body?”

The more Nick asks, the less it sounds real so Harry just sighs. “I don’t know why you’re asking me for, Lou’s his own person, always has been and I’m not his mum either.”  


“You think I should ask his mum?”

“No!” Harry barks, horrified, and he wishes he was laughing, he really does. “Christ, no.”

“Thank god, I nearly had a heart attack then." He giggles suddenly. “Can you imagine though? ‘Please may I have permission to get into your luscious-thighed son’s pants?’”

“You are the worst.” Harry grumbles.

“Fine,” Nick retorts, already thoughtful, “I’ll just have to seduce him properly. Come on, drink up. It’s your round.”

*

_meet me at R1 at 5._

Having been woken up by the early vibrating of his phone, Louis scrabbles around for it to peer bleary-eyed and sees that text from Nick. He frowns, not having a clue what it means beyond the obvious. Lest he get any of this strange communication between them wrong, Louis types a reply quickly and hopes for the minimum of mistakes.

_at 5 like in 5 minsd or 5 in the AM? Fuckk u im too tireds for this nick_

His reply is snappy, in time and content:

_well obviously not 5 mins, you’ve got to get yourself ready. ;)_

Still sleepy, Louis chooses simply.

_Arsehole._

_You win hands down in that respect, darling._

Louis feels his mouth drop, scandalised, and his face flushes with rage (it is rage). He’ll be damned if he doesn’t accept the challenge now.

*

Louis parks his Range Rover not too far from the Radio 1 building as its close on 5AM and he is not in the mood to walk. Clutching a thermos of coffee to keep his eyelids from falling closed (tea comes later), he rounds the corner and sees Nick hunched in the doorway, waiting. For him.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” he snaps by way of a greeting, his voice still full of morning rasp and his head asleep in his bed.

Nick’s lips twitch into a smile. There are dark circles under his eyes but he looks more awake than Louis, probably because of the three cups of coffee to Louis’ one. He opens the door and holds it.

“I thought I’d show you what goes on when Radio 1 starts to come alive.”

“What do I care?” Louis sighs, even as he takes the offer and walks into the building, followed by Nick. “I’ve seen the inside of a radio station before and if you say you’re its doctor, resuscitating the radio back to early morning life, I _will_ punch you in the balls.”

Nick laughs. Louis ignores the thrill that runs through him now that happens whenever he makes anyone laugh. “Alright, I won’t, I promise. Scout’s honour.”

They move down to ‘the basement’ level in not quite companionable silence, but Louis, for one, is too tired to make small talk despite kind of being fairly adept at putting people at ease, whether with a favour or a joke. He frowns because why he’d want to do that for Nick should be a non-existent issue.

After a long line of dim corridors, Louis expects a door to open and lights to turn on to reveal Nick’s humble radio abode. Instead, a door opens, Louis is pushed through it and that’s that.

“What – ” he splutters, stumbling into the dark room, “ – where’s – why aren’t the lights on?”

“So nobody can see us,” Nick explains and Louis only feels marginally better about how creepy that is when he hears the accompanying giggle.

“Look, I don’t know what your game is and I’m not really – I really don’t care, but – ”

“Shh.” It’s not dark enough that Louis can’t see anything. He can make out Nick’s shape and height, taller than him and mildly foreboding in shadow until you get to the outline of his coiffed hair and back down to his skinny legs. “You should shut up now.”

He blows out an annoyed breath and his fingers tighten on the thermos still radiating comforting warmth in his hand. “Oi, don’t tell me what – ”

The rest of his sentence is lost in muffled indignation as a mouth dips to land squarely on his. Louis remains resolutely rooting to the spot, his lips clamped together when Nick tries for something more resembling a kiss than a technique to stop him talking. Louis has to admit that he’s won that battle. He’s shocked and his brain is fuzzy and it makes him be less than on top of his game. After another second or two, Nick pulls away from his lips and turns in towards his ear.

“I’m trying to kiss you, if you don’t mind,” he whispers, his cold long fingers curling over Louis’ thermos.

Louis’ grip remains steadfast. “Actually, I do. You can’t just – we’re not – we’re not even friends!”

“So?”

“But – but we can’t,” Louis breathes in a quick, desperate rush.

“We can. I asked Harry and everything.”

“You _what_?!”

Nick laughs and Louis’ elbow twitches into his side as he feels slim arms try to bring him close. “Relax, love. I just asked him how to seduce you.”

“And he said _this_?” Louis cries. “I’m going to kill that stupid boy. What the fuck does he know anyway?”

“As it turns out, not a lot. Hey,” Louis turns his face up a little, his ears interested in the change of Nick’s tone into something softer, maybe kind of...anxious. “Is this – this is okay, yeah? I thought you’d prefer the direct approach.”

Louis lets him stew for perhaps thirty seconds and can’t help his smirk as he sips his tepid coffee and feels Nick start to fidget against his body. _That’s what you get for having me too close_ , he thinks with no small amount of glee. The body language screams a need to touch and have _more_ and Louis has to concede that it’s the same feeling as his occasional club rendezvous – he feels desired and nobody wants to turn that down without good reason. Nick’s hardly as ugly as a hunchback.

“Your seduction skills leave a lot to be desired.” Louis sniffs at last.

“Desired, eh?” he can feel Nick’s smile against his temple, “I’ll show you desire.”

Louis pushes his fist into his chest and they tussle with his thermos until Louis’ disapproval of Nick’ teasing, infuriating cheese wins over his need to keep his hands occupied with inanimate objects and to be stubborn to the point of annoyance. Suddenly he can see why he and Harry get along – they’re rather similar and an unfamiliar sensation bobs through Louis like a lift as he remembers that that’s something he and Harry always say about each other and begrudgingly wonders if that means it’s the same story for _him and Nick_ too. It’s a scary thought.

“Why are all the lights off again?” Louis asks to cover up the hitch in breath as Nick noses coldly behind his ear.

“We like to keep an air of mystery on the breakfast show,” he quips. Louis stills half in his arms and looks down at his trainers to hide his smile when Nick reacts with a sigh. “Fine. It’s to fuck with Dev on the graveyard shift. He asked on my first week doing the show and we’ve done it ever since. See? It is mystery.”

Louis snorts. “You tell yourself that, princess.”

“Gladly, pixie. Now c’mere, so I can try and seduce you some more.”

Nick pulls Louis in by his denim jacket and then by his arse and, damn it, it’s a weakness for him as much as anybody else and he aggressively swallows Nick’s delight. It’s a small mercy that he’s in sweatpants so at least the material is unforgiving in its thickness. What Louis doesn’t count on is Nick’s obvious frustration with that turning into clever mischief as he simply slides his hand down the back of the waistband.

“What kind of boy do you think I am?” Louis gasps, reaching to remove the offending limb as he gets dangerously close to peeling down his boxer briefs. 

“A really, really fit one, darling,” Nick pants and knocks his legs into Louis’ to push him against a counter with no precious levers or buttons. This is one thing he doesn’t want broadcast to the nation, whatever the timeslot.

Still determined to rebel against any approach Nick’s got, he knows he’s lost when Nick’s got one hand on his left buttock – thankfully over his underwear – but the other decidedly _inside_ his underwear and making a skilled grab for his cock. His grasp is firm and long fingered, the tips sometimes trailing over the crown, and, with a few quick tugs, Louis’ dick betrays him sooner than he’d like until he’s hard.

When Nick squeezes him flush to his body, Louis’ vision momentarily sparkles.

*

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, still not used to seeing Nick when he does open them and look down. He wants to here, of course, but he can’t deny that it’s a bit of a whirlwind and they should really, actually talk sometime soon. But not right now. Louis doesn’t think he can form coherent sentences right now. Stupid Nick and stupid hair and stupidly adept pale fingers and stupidly, entirely decent cock. He shivers and he pretends its revulsion at the thought until he’s reminded that that particular denial is hilariously futile when all he has to do is roll his hips and he can _feel_ him already.

“Are you gonna move again or - ?” Nick says through clenched teeth.

His hands fit around Louis’ hipbones with more purpose and Louis shakes away his head of thoughts and reacts with another slow hip roll, sweat running down his back from their earlier quicker pace. Nick wanted to fuck him; even after giving Louis a rushed handjob at the radio station that morning, before someone like Fincham came in and turned on the lights to ruin the passionate moment. He promised to take Louis out properly soon. He only agreed if he got to be on top.

“So,” Nick laughs, eyes huge and glassy and hands so warm, “where am I taking you?”

“To come, hopefully,” Louis quips, blinking as a moan slips out when Nick’s cock presses just right.

“Tosser,”

“Nah, that was you this morning,”

“Stay still.” Nick demands, firm but quiet.

Louis’ so confused at the non-sequitur that he obeys and lets Nick pull his hands towards his chest, planting them there so Louis is half bent over him. Nick keeps his grip around his wrists until he knows he can chance Louis not moving then places his own onto his hips again. They drop down swiftly though to the rounded curve of Louis’ arse and he’s already rocking in a counterpoint as Nick thrusts upwards over and over until they’re both trembling from the build up and Louis’ making restrained noises at the full sensation.

“You’re never quiet,” Nick teases, swapping his hands to Louis’ lower back and to reach with the other to tuck the limp strands of his hair from falling into his bright eyes. “Don’t start on my account.”

Louis makes a displeased sound and lets go of Nick’s body. He notes the slight frown with triumph, but they both gasp unbidden as he leans backwards, hands on Nick’s thighs and returns to shifting up and down on his cock with concentrated vigour. It’s why he’s such a mess, slick skin and pink cheeks and suddenly all he cares about is the need to come. He forgets himself and his eyes narrow to slits, hoping to hide the way they want to roll back inside his head every time he squeezes around Nick and his hips stutter. He thinks Nick is leaving him to it for once when an increasingly familiar hand at his dick makes his stomach somersault and his eyes pop. He pushes into that grip and back onto Nick, caught between the best of both worlds and unsure if he has to choose to reach his end.

“C’mon, duck,” Nick cajoles but raises a little to kiss Louis’ shoulder to soften the riling up, “c’mon, you can do it,”

“I know,” he moans, “fuck, _I know_ , stop – stop telling me what – ”

He – well, there’s no other way to quantify it – he squeaks in surprise as Nick grabs a handful of his damp hair and yanks him close. He wraps his arm across his shoulders but strokes his fingers along the soft, bare nape of Louis’ neck to feel him shiver and wriggle.

“When we’re done,” Nick whispers, licking at his ear, “I’m gonna roll you over and fuck you right into the mattress and you’re gonna be much, much louder for me, yes you are,”

Louis’ feistiness dies in the face of his limbs suddenly shaking and his coordination slipping as he wiggles a hand to his cock and finishes himself off in a rush, striping Nick’s ribs as he clenches down. The other man aborts a giddy laugh and groans through it, allowing Louis to pull him along.

After a moment of breathing erratically against each other, Louis rolls off Nick and onto his back. They stare at the ceiling, both lost in thought.

“Well,” Nick says after a moment in a strained voice as he stretches and sighs gratefully when he’s done. “You’re not a bad shag, Tomlinson.” Louis hits the back of his hand against Nick’s chest without thinking about measuring force and smirks at the “oof” he lets out. However, he’s disarmed entirely when Nick takes that hand and kisses his knuckles. “I kid. That was lovely.”

Still pliant and liquid-limbed, Louis stares across at him before he makes a decision and leans on his forearm to kiss him lingeringly. “Hm. Yeah, it was.”

“And I think that was just the tip of the iceberg. There’s more to you yet.”

Louis bites his lip and hopes he can blame the flush to his face on what they’ve just finished because he’s certain he’s being silly and Nick merely meant it for the sex. With that in mind, he feels sticky and quite disgusting and in need of a shower, but Nick seems to have other ideas and pets his haphazard hair until Louis gives in for now and settles under his arm, his ear on his chest.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t your first time,” Nick grins at Louis’ lips tightening into an unimpressed, thin line. “And I’m only saying that because no one can be that good on a fluke. Do you – go out often?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you think? But,” he pauses, “I’ve had an alright share anyway.”

“Can I ask how many?”

“No. Jealous, are we?” Louis means it to be the taunt it’s supposed to be.

“Might be.” Nick answers casually, destroying its effectiveness. “Now that I know what all the fuss is about. Is that you bottoming or - ?”

Louis’ lip curls. “I can switch.”

“With that mouth and that attitude, love, I bet you can,” he smiles goofily until he gets a roll of the eyes for his trouble. As long as it’s something he can worth with it. “Anyone I know?”

“Let’s just say...a few minor people in the industry and leave it at that.”

“Ooh!” he crows, dropping a kiss to Louis’ mess of hair. “Do you top people less successful than you?”

Louis makes a face. “I’m not a stuck up twat.”

“Good to know.”

“And no, I like – um,” he brushes his hair off his face and feels how hot his cheeks remain from talking so candidly to another person who he hasn’t even been on an official date with yet. Nick is like one big fuck you to the invisible handbook of relationships. “ – One time I had this solo singer where I think he was more experienced with girls, but he was sweet enough, so I let him fuck me and then I fucked right back.”

“Like that awful song from a few years ago? Christ, you were probably still in school.”

Louis grins. “Pervert. The other was a guitarist in a band. We had a good laugh and it...went from there. Good hands, went everywhere when he fucked me and that’s all you’re getting.”

Nick makes a show of looking into the distance and flips the sheet that’s half covering him to pretend to grab his spent dick. “That’ll keep the wank bank going for a while I’m sure.”

“I’m insane.” Louis sighs, sitting up.

Nick draws his finger leisurely up and down his spine, freakishly understanding that he’s talking about the present and not his past conquests. “Yeah,” he allows, “but at least we’ll be insane together, eh?”

Somehow, it’s a comforting thought.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first Tomlinshaw I ever wrote last year, which is why it's a little bit more hesitant on the smut compared to my most recent offering, heh. 
> 
> Originally posted on my [LiveJournal](http://community.livejournal.com/beautility) and crossposted to my [Tumblr](http://www.theprincessed.tumblr.com).


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